


Dare I Believe?

by greekowl87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode S11e1 My Struggle III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Chris Carter never really addressed the whole separation thing. So I took it upon myself. Mulder and Scully deal with the visions, including the vision of their separation.





	Dare I Believe?

**Author's Note:**

> I attempted smut again. Sorry.

Scully woke with Mulder gently unbuckling the seatbelt of the SUV. She shook the sleep from her eyes and stretched slightly. Mulder smiled at her, his sad eyes betraying the depth of his worry and love. "I can walk, Mulder," she whispered through a yawn.

"Scully," he begged softly, "let me? It's not every day you decide to check yourself out of a hospital just to get yourself in an accident."

She nodded slightly, giving a weak smile. "It is not every day that the man you loves goes all macho and slits the throat of your strangler."

Mulder thumbed her cheek affectionately. "Shower or bath?"

"Mmph. Shower and then bed," she whispered.

He smiled and nodded. "I'll make you some tea."

In a rare moment of vulnerability, she relented and let Mulder carry her over the threshold and up into their master bathroom in the unremarkable house. She sighed, content to feel him holding her, just being home. Mulder set her down on the cool tiled floor and watched her questioningly. "You got it from here, Scully?"

She nodded, shedding the borrowed hospital scrubs, wincing in memory of the bloodied hospital gown and her ruined pants suit. Mulder gave her a weak smile and gave her a peck on the cheek. "You know there would be nothing more than I would love a round of shower sex," he softly, "but you beckoned your manservant. Get ready for bed. I'll be up in a bit." He gave her one last lingering chaste kiss and soft smile. "Call if you need anything."

She nodded and Mulder shut the door leaving her with the cold naked air of the bathroom and the sterile tiles. She stripped the paper thin scrubs like a second skin and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. Steam wafted from the shower as she took a moment to examine her reflection in the mirror.

She was glad she told Mulder to fix the hot water heater last week and then...wasn't her hair shorter? Before? It wasn't long. Was it? The visions flooded her head briefly. William. Her son. Their son. He was their son. But other visions too. Chasing a weremonster? Her mother. Was her mother still alive? Mulder. Separation. What? The last thing she remembered as Mulder approached her one night about meeting some whack wing named Tad O'Malley as they fixed dinner together and they agreed to meet him together after she got off from the hospital but then the memory breaks. She had visions of a stranger, foreign apartment that she called hers but knew in her heart was not home. Her home was with Mulder, wherever that was. She learned that from their years on the run. Shaking her head, she fingered her long, red hair, glad to have the length back before reaching for a hair tie to tie it into a loose bun. The last thing she wanted was having to blow dry her hair.

As she stepped into the scalding shower, the water cleansing any vestiges of confusion and cloudiness, she closed her eyes and try to focus her thoughts. She was certain she saw her son and that he would find them. She felt a little giddy at the fact that from the glimpses she saw, he looked like a young Mulder. She remembers his gentle teasing that William would always have her smarts. But there was one thing that continued to linger, their separation. Hurried by the need to have answers and her pounding heart, Scully rushes her shower and steps out, dressed quickly in one of Mulder's tee shirts and a pair of running shorts. As she is about to pull on a hoodie before going downstairs, Mulder pushes open their half-closed bedroom door holding an oversized comical mug of peach green tea. She can smell it. He used her favorite to try and get her to relax but his face betrayed him.

"I know what I saw, Mulder," she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. She took note of his sleeping pants and lack of shirt. "Since when did you get ready for bed?"

"When you were in the shower." He sat down and passed her the tea as a peace offering. "And I don't doubt you, you know that."

Scully sighed took the offered tea. "There's a lot of things that still bother me," she murmured sipping the mug.

Mulder leaned back on his right hand played with the loose strands of her red hair with his left. "Such as?"

"Well, my hair was shorter."

"I always liked you with long hair. Reminds me of when I first met you," he teased.

Scully smiled into the hot tea and lowered the mug. "I also saw...I don't know...Mulder, were we separated?" She hesitated. "Is my mother still alive?"

Mulder arched an eyebrow. "I called your mother," he began. "She was with Charlie. I left out the...details of everything. And we never separated. We rejoined the FBI after O'Malley and Skinner contacted us, remember?" She hunched forward at his last words. Mulder sighed and gently wrenched the tea away from her hands. He pulled back the worn red comforter on their bed and guided her under the covers. "Remember what I told you when we were on the lam? You can always trust us. You can always trust what we have."

Scully closed her eyes, relishing the worn Eypgtian cotton sheets and Mulder's arm coming around her midsection, the harbinger of when he would fully coil around her like a vine and swallow her whole. She sighed in relief as he turned the lamp out and the rest of wrapped around her. The light reflected from the house's floodlights into the room and she tried to close her eyes as the visions assaulted her again. But she felt something else. A wandering hand. Mulder's.

"We never separated," he told her as if reading her mind and one of her worst fears. "You never left. I never left. Not really."

His warm hand hitched up the worn cotton tee shirt and she sighed slowly, enjoying the sensation. His rough fingers tips skimmed her abdomen in reminiscence before she felt the waistband of her running shorts stretch. Instinctively she arched backward and felt Mulder bit her shoulder lightly. His hand, that marvelous hand that could save the world and end hers found itself in the valley of her warmth. The beauty of age is wisdom; Mulder knew every little twist, pull, tweak, and stroke, like tuning an aged violin for its world debut performance. He could make her blood sing, make her come with a single stroke, but he prolonged it, slowly building her fire as his long, strong fingers and hands shaped and molded around her.

"Do you feel me, Scully?"

"Hmph." She moaned. "Yeah."

She took her arms and held onto his arms that held her against him like a safety strap. She wished she could just melt into him. He continued to fine-tune her. "Don't hold back. Us. I will never leave you. You would never leave me. Remember Vegas? Elvis married us, Scully. The King himself presided over our holy union." She groaned appreciatively. "In sickness and in health, till death do us part, I will never leave you, my wife, Scully."

She was amazed how fast she was about to explode, all under his deft right hand. She cried as if holding her breath for a long time. She was gasping for breath as Mulder removed his hands and gently begins to caress her thigh tenderly. "In sickness and health, Scully."

She nodded and pulled him around her, closing her eyes, her blood still singing with the power of his love.

"Till death do us part," she murmured in prayer.


End file.
